


5 times Tony Stark had to save himself and one time he didn't

by lomku



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Attempted Drugging, BAMF Tony Stark, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Accident, Don't copy to another site, Finally done!!, Gen, Humor, Hurt Tony, Maybe more characters Idk, Minor Character Death, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Non-Consensual Kissing, POV Tony Stark, Tony Fucking Stark, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark is competent, Tony Stark is weird, Tony Stark's ramblings, Tony Stark's thoughts, Violence, car crash, i will add more tags as i write the story, no death is described graphically, oratory skills, pretending endgame never happened, tree consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lomku/pseuds/lomku
Summary: Tony Stark doesn't always have his armour with him to save him. Fortunately, he is far from helpless without his suit.After all, Tony Stark is Iron Man, with and without armour.





	1. Gas leak

**Author's Note:**

> Have some BAMF Tony :)

Being world famous was not always a good thing. For one, it made it nearly impossible to do anything incognito without resorting to a disguise. Of course, you could argue that Tony Stark wasn’t one to do anything incognito or subtle. But sometimes, he just wanted to be left alone. And this was one of the times.

The conference on chemicals, gases and their applications was not the kind of conference Tony Stark went to. But _just Tony_ loved listening to young promising scientists. And if he took note of the more promising ones to get them a job in Stark Industries, well, no one had to know.

That was why Tony was currently wearing clothes that a Stark would never wear in public: a frankly boring grey woollen cardigan over a white T-shirt; black jeans; and a white scarf to hide his instantly recognisable goatee. He had topped it off with some glasses (His eyesight was not what it was twenty years ago, he was old, dammit) and avoided any gel to let his hair hang in small curls. Tony really hoped that nobody would recognise him, because that would instantly lead to people questioning his fashion sense. _And we wouldn’t want that, would we?_

Another part of his disguise was to try to blend in as much as possible. Tony Stark would take a place in the front rows, hog all the limelight, effectively shifting focus from the person presenting their work to himself. Tony didn’t want that. It was tiring enough that he couldn’t even go to the cinema to enjoy a movie because of the way everyone in the room would look at him rather than the movie. If he could avoid a similar situation in a science conference, he would. Not to mention that him being present would be a disservice to the presenting scientist. It was one thing to be ogled at in the cinema, but possibly ruining a crucial moment in a scientist’s career? Even Tony wasn’t so heartless.  He knew that some of the scientists presenting their work relied on someone from the audience being interested enough to offer them a job or funding for their research. Anyway, he couldn’t afford to be recognised. So, he sat somewhere in the middle rows, head bowed to avoid making eye contact, and listening. Every time someone presented an interesting idea, he would note down the name on a small notebook. _I know, paper, UGH. But it would stand out too much to have a fancy tablet._

Today was a slow day. It was the third day and clearly the arrangers had decided to make it an unofficial break day, with few presentations and even fewer interesting ones. Tony kind of pitied the scientists that were scheduled to present today. The usually full halls were half empty, and the crowd was half asleep. But the alternative to sitting there would be to be in a board meeting at SI, and everything was better than that. And so Tony sat and listened. Or more accurately, sat and dozed off.

He was woken rather abruptly by a loud sound. The woman on the podium had dropped the device she was holding, staring at something in the back of the room. He followed her gaze and froze. Six men in gas masks and black jump suits were entering the room, positioning themselves in front of the exits. They all carried rifles. In five seconds, they had blocked all escape routes.

Tony could vaguely hear the doors being shut and locked. The situation was growing more dire for each second that passed. But why was this even happening? What did these men want? Tony tried to make sense of what he saw, but he couldn’t find a reasonable explanation as to what was happening. He was running the numbers in his head, but he was missing a variable. Who, and where, was the boss?

His question was answered for him when a small woman walked up to the podium. She was flanked by two more of the men, one of them carrying an ominously flashing device. One look from the men and the still frozen scientist fled from the podium. This smelled rotten. Very, very rotten. Tony had the feeling he didn’t want to know what exactly the device was.

The small woman walked up to the microphone, and after some adjusting of the height, started speaking:

“Fellow scientists, you may know me as Lady Gas. I was one of the presenters of last year’s conference. Unfortunately, a small mishap during my presentation banned me from ever attending this conference again. You can understand my disappointment and despair when I realised I would not be able to continue my research on arsine gas and its wonderful applications in modern warfare. Thankfully, a _benefactor_ decided to give me money in exchange for my services. And here I am, presenting to you my first arsine bomb.” She chuckled maliciously while stretching her arms, showing off the device - _bomb_ \- to the audience. Several stunned gasps were heard, but other than that the crowd was dead silent. You didn’t have to be a genius to know that this woman was bad news.

Tony tried to remember everything he knew about arsine. Arsine: [inorganic compound](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inorganic_compound) with the [formula](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chemical_formula) [As](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arsenic)[H](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hydrogen)3. Flammable, [pyrophoric](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyrophoric), and highly toxic [pnictogen hydride](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pnictogen_hydride) gas, one of the simplest compounds of [arsenic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arsenic). Great. So this female Scarecrow had a gas bomb. Filled with arsine. A highly lethal gas.

They were so fucked.

Gaslady started speaking again.

“Now, I want you to understand that this bomb could kill you in mere seconds. The amount of arsine is so high that if I decide to trigger the bomb, your chances of survival are exactly zero. You can’t leave the room. Anybody foolish enough to try to escape will be shot down.”

At that, the goons made a show of raising their weapons and glowering threateningly.

“You see, I am doing an experiment. I’m sure you’ll be delighted, as fellow scientists, to be part of this. Don’t bother objecting, you don’t have a choice.” Again, the evil smirk of someone who knew she was in utter control of the situation.

“As I said, I had an incident while showing my work in this conference. My nervousness caused me to drop something that should not have been dropped. No-one died, rest assured. But it made me think. Don’t you find it unfair that being nervous ruined my career? What makes you so much better than me, other than steady hands?”

Tony could guess where this was going. Some kind of revenge. But if she only wanted to kill them, surely she would have done so already, without bothering to lock them in. No, that meant whatever she was planning was going to take some time.

He went over his options. He had no iron man suit, and no way to go out of this room. He could try to contact Happy or the Avengers, or even the police. However, looking at his phone made him curse silently. His phone was displaying NO SIGNAL, and if his phone didn’t have a signal, it was safe to say that no phone had a signal. Shit. The bomb must have a cell phone jammer.

There was only one option left, which was calling one of his suits. He had to get out of the way first, otherwise his suit would just crash into the persons sitting next to him. If he could just stand and move over to the-

A sharp pain in his shoulder had Tony doubling over, barely holding back a cry, just as the sound of a gunshot echoed loudly.

He had been shot.

Trembling fingers pressed against his right shoulder and came away coated in blood.

This was bad. Very bad. He had brought attention to himself and was now not even in state to fight.

The crazy woman looked at him and sneered: “Well, well, well. Are you going somewhere? Can’t you see that it is rude to walk away while I’m talking?“ She made a gesture, and the man who had shot Tony aimed the rifle at his head.

“Or are you trying to take the easy way out, a bullet instead of the excruciating pain the gas will cause?”

Tony stayed perfectly still, desperately trying to find a way of getting out of this alive. He could feel the eyes of the crowd on him. The only sound that could be heard was his own harsh breaths.

“Come here.” She commanded. He complied, acutely aware of the rifle still aimed at his head.

He walked onto the stage and was shoved to his knees by the man who had shot him.  

The silence was deafening. Most of the crowd was looking at him, expressions of fear and anger clear on their faces. Well, he could understand what they felt just fine. There was nothing he could do but wait, feeling the cold barrel of the gun against his head.

Suddenly he felt annoyed by his disguise. Was he going to die like that, an anonymous victim of a crazy woman? It felt unfitting.

When the silence had stretched long enough for Lady Gas, she resumed her monologue.

“Before I was interrupted by this fool, I mentioned an experiment. I was going to ask for a volunteer for what is about to come, but I believe I have found one. How generous of you to have come to the stage, my dear.“ She leered at Tony. “Let me explain what is going to happen. This bomb will explode in exactly…”-She looked at the bomb-“…5 minutes and 37 seconds. But I am not heartless. I will give you a chance to disarm the bomb. For that, you will need to have very _steady hands_. I figured it was only fair that you had to meet the same requirements as me one year ago. “

She turned to the audience: “If you really are as good as you think you are, if you really are so superior to me, then you will walk away without a scratch. But if, my some misfortune, this man here is not good enough, you will all die. Watch closely, for this might be the last thing you’ll ever see.”

Tony, who had been listening very intently, what with his life being threatened and all, allowed himself to breathe more freely. If this woman was telling the truth, there was still hope. Tony prided himself of being not too bad at disarming bombs. Of all the persons in this room, he was most likely the one best qualified for this. Not that crazy lady or the terrified crowd had any way of knowing that.

Someone in the crowd shouted “How do we know you’re not lying? For all this is worth, we might die regardless of what the man manages to do to the bomb.”

Assenting whispers were heard.

Lady Gas smiled, even more creepily than before, and remarked: “You don’t know. There is no way for you to know if I’m telling the truth. But I know my friend- “She pointed at Tony, who scowled.”-will take my word for it, because it’s better than the other option. Now sit back and enjoy the show while this man tries to save you. I hope he is up to the challenge.”

She put the bomb on a table - and since when was there a table on the stage? – and gestured for Tony to start. He slowly got to his feet, the barrel of the rifle firmly against his back now.

The first thing he did was looking for a timer of some sort. After a quick glance he saw the countdown in angry red numbers:

4:21

4:20

4:19

He had less than 4 and a half minutes to figure this out. She was right, he was going to assume that there was a way to disarm the bomb. But for that, he needed tools. A search through his pockets gave him his pen and his phone. It would have to be enough.

The next minutes essentially consisted of him trying to get to the electronics. The bomb was encased in a rigid plastic hull, which he needed to get rid of. It was not easy, especially with the throbbing in his shoulder. His fingers were bloody and he had nearly broken his pen by the time he finally lifted the hull. He glanced at the time.

2:03

Fuck.

Faster, he needed to work faster.

 

The bomb was expertly assembled, with all the right materials and components. There were dozens of wires, all the same colour. Tony, trying to see the vials containing the gas, made to move the wires, but stilled. There was something attached to the wires, something he hadn’t recognised at first. Looking more closely revealed it to be a motion sensor. The sensor was also connected to the vials.

Cold chills ran down his spine. If he had moved to wires even a millimetre, the motion sensor would have triggered the opening of the vials.

Tony looked at the gas woman. She had put on a gas mask, and something like anger flashed in her eyes as she realised he had seen the motion sensor and avoided the trap.

Tony didn’t know if he should be relieved to have bested her or terrified of what could have happened. He was sweating profusely now, from the pain but also from the stress. He thought he heard sobs coming from the crowd, but the room was still mostly silent. They were all watching him.

He tried to steady his breathing, blinking away the sweat from his eyes.   

1:38

The light seemed to glare at him mockingly.

He tried to give himself a pep talk. _Come on, you can do this. The lives of the people in this room depend on you. You’re Tony Stark, making the impossible happen is second nature for you._

1:26

_Oh God._ _I can’t do this. I can’t. There is no way to disarm the bomb without moving the fucking wires. She made it impossible, she KNOWS it’s impossible to disarm, what’s the point of even trying?_

1:14

His heart beating a mile a minute, his shoulder aching and his shirt moist from the sweat, Tony sat down and closed his eyes.

Think.

He had to look at the problem from another angle. Panicking wouldn’t help. There had to be a way. He visualised the bomb in his mind, looking at all the components once more.

Whispers were drifting up from the public. He could hear people starting to wonder if he had found a solution, or if he was trying to accept his death. He wanted to shout at them to keep quiet, couldn’t they see he was _working on it_ , but he didn’t. It would lose him precious seconds, time he _didn’t have_.

A small part of his brain supplied him helpfully: _42 seconds left_.

Okay.

He needed to stop the mechanism that would open the vials. The best way to do that would be to put a small object in the mechanism in order to jam it. But in order to do that, he needed to get underneath the wires, which was a problem. He had to find a way to access the mechanism without ever touching the wires.

How could he do that?

_29 seconds left, hurry up._

Tony opened his eyes and stood up.

He had to use the pen.

His fingers were too big to fit between the wires.

Lady Gas had said that he would need to have very steady hands. _Guess she was right. If my hands tremble, even a little, the pen will touch the wires and I’ll be dead in seconds._

0:25

He spoke up for the first time since he was shot:

“I know how to disarm the bomb. But I must be perfectly steady. I need to concentrate, or we’ll die. Please don’t make any noise.”

He was met by absolute silence.

Silently, he took the pen, almost detaching the tip, letting it dangle at the end. That was going to be the jammer. His hands were shaking, especially his right one. The pain was steadily getting worse. He hadn’t even taken the time to stop the bleeding, and judging by the pool of blood already on the floor, he would lose consciousness in a few minutes.

You know, just your average Thursday.

 

Tony took three measured breaths, inhaled deeply, then stopped breathing. He needed to be as still as possible. He took the pen in his left hand and started lowering the pen between the wires. It was a very slow process, as he had to watch closely and stop his hand from shaking.

He risked a glance at the countdown.

0:12

He swallowed uneasily. He was almost halfway there.

Centimetre by centimetre, he brought the pen down.

0:10

He touched one of the last wires with the tip and froze. Had he triggered the opening of the vials?

0:09

0:08

0:07

0:06

He wasn’t dying, which meant he hadn’t released the mechanism. Or that was what he hoped.

Just two centimetres more.

0:04

One centimetre.

0:03

He felt the tip connect with the release mechanism. He tapped lightly on the pen with his right hand, effectively loosening the tip and jamming it in the mechanism.

0:01

0:00

Tony stared at the countdown.

Why hadn’t it stopped at one second? Had he failed?

He looked at the gas vials and exhaled in relief when he saw they were still closed.

His legs gave out. He had done it. The bomb wouldn’t explode.

_Congratulations, Tony, you won’t die by gas poisoning. But don’t forget crazy gas lady or the hole in your shoulder. Don’t pass out now._

His annoying internal voice was right. There were too many things that could happen still. Tony looked up to Lady Gas, waiting. She had stood up when she saw the countdown reach zero, and was now staring at the bomb. After a few seconds, she turned to Tony.

“I’m impressed. You actually managed to understand the mechanisms of the bomb and to defuse it. Not many scientists are as versatile, to have both theoretical and practical knowledge that expansive is very rare.”

She looked thoughtful.

“To kill you now would be a waste. You’ll live.”

At that, the goons lowered their guns and moved away from the exits. They marched wordlessly to the woman who took the now (relatively) inoffensive bomb. They disappeared behind the stage.

One beat, two beats, and then the crowd erupted in applause.

Tony belatedly realised that the applause was for him. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain his shoulder flared up. He shrugged off his cardigan, examining his wound. The bullet had gone right through him. Good. He clumsily took his scarf to form a make-shift bandage. Better than nothing.

Now he just had to wait for the ambulance.

He was so tired.

Maybe he could nap a little, just a few minutes.

Dimly, he felt hands on his torso, lowering him to the floor.

Several sharp intakes of breath and: ”Mr. Stark?”

Oh, yeah. He had discarded his disguise. Whoops.

The voices were becoming frantic.

“It’s Tony Stark! Stark saved us! Get help!”

“He’s bleeding out!”

His eyes closed.

 

* * *

 

Five hours later, Tony Stark read the headlines from his hospital bed:

STARK SAVES HUNDREDS FROM LETHAL GAS BOMB

INCOGNITO IRON MAN SAVES THE DAY

JEANS AND CARDIGAN THE NEW HERO LOOK: STARK’S WARDROBE CHANGE

STARK WEARING CARDIGAN: FASHION STATEMENT OR TERRIBLE MISTAKE?

He groaned.

_My reputation is ruined. I’ll never wear a cardigan again._

 

 


	2. kiss kiss bang bang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for non-consensual kissing.

“Can you remind me why we are here again, boss?”

“Because, you need to relax. I know you’ve been stressing up all of SI with your new security measures, and believe me, I love that you put so much effort into it, but you need to wind down once in a while. Come on, Happy, can’t you just drink your beer and enjoy the night?”

Happy glared at Tony from across the booth.

“You seriously expect me to be able to chill when we’re surrounded by potential hostiles? And even worse, you want me to drink during duty?”

Tony groaned and pinched his nose.

“You know that it’s Saturday evening, right? You’re not on duty right now. This, this, this is just you and me enjoying, or _trying to enjoy_ , a night out. Just two old pals, ok? Work with me, here. I’m doing this for you, pal. Well, actually, I’m doing it because Pepper threatened me with mountains of paperwork if I didn’t make you calm down, but, you know, same difference, right?”

Happy glared some more, refusing to even touch his beer. He kept glancing around, shooting hostile looks at anyone daring to approach the booth too closely. And that meant a lot of people, as the night club was _very_ crowded. Tony had honestly thought that his idea had been great, what with being in a different environment, with loud blaring music, delicious drinks and gorgeous people dancing their asses off. Now though…. He could see it _maybe_ wasn’t the best place to relax. But it was the thought that counted, right? So Happy should actually be grateful that Tony deigned spend some of his _extremely_ valuable time. He was an _important_ man with _important_ things to do, and – _Who am I kidding? I need some time to unwind too. Spending 45 hours straight in the lab is not something a man of my age should still be doing._ Needless to say, the evening wasn’t going quite as planned.

“Happy, I’m being serious here, and you know how often _that_ happens, so would you please just listen to me? You’re way too stressed. You’re overworking yourself. I don’t want you to have a breakdown in the next weeks, I actually care about your health, you know? It’s fine if you don’t want to be here, but we need to take your mind off your work. We can always spar a little, just like in the old days. What’s so horrible about taking a night off anyways? Drink your beer, make small talk, dance with someone, take someone home, I don’t fucking care, but _relax_ , ok?”

Happy grumbled something about being too old for these kind of places, but he slumped in his chair and took a sip of his beer.

_Thank fucking god._

“That wasn’t so hard, eh? Now, Hap. Tell me about your life. Seeing anyone?”

“None of your business, Tony.”

Ouch.

Ok, so Happy was not completely relaxed. Yet.

Never let it be said that Tony Stark couldn’t talk away awkward silences, though.

So Tony talked for two. He blabbered on about his ideas for the new line of Starkphones (“So I think that giving every phone an infrared camera is actually a great idea, you know, so that whenever you need to pee in the middle of the night, you don’t trip over your bed or something, actually, I could use that, I stubbed my toe pretty nastily last week, it’s still sore, and that would totally help- “ “Why don’t you just turn on the lights?” ”-and that’s a very good suggestion, thank you Happy, okay, let’s just scrap the infrared cameras-“); mused about his ideas for a new suit (“I’m thinking something that I can have on me at all times, maybe nanotechnology, I’m not sure yet”); talked about Pepper’s incoming birthday (“Help me here, I don’t know what to give her. Do you think that buying another island is too much?”); talked about the last season of Downton Abbey, and _that_ seemed to interest Happy. Soon enough, Happy was bemoaning the unfair rendering of Dr.Clarkson in the finale, and expressing his terrible despair at the fact that the series had ended after only six seasons.

“This series is so underrated! The actors are great, the setting and the pace in the episodes is divine, I think it’s one of the best shows of the century. Boss, couldn’t you buy the rights to it and make a new season happen?”

“Uhhhhhhh… I don’t think Pepper’ll let me. I can try?”

They both knew Pepper would never allow it. There was a rule against buying tv-shows after the debacle of 1998. And _nobody_ talked about the debacle of 1998. _No one can know_. _It’s a secret I’ll take to the grave._

Now that Happy had finally warmed up to the conversation, Tony ordered some snack and another glass of beer for Happy. He took a glass of Pepsi himself, much to the horror of Happy:

“I can’t believe you’re betraying America like that, Tony. Pepsi? No wonder people think you’re crazy.”

“I won’t listen to any word you say, Mister hamburgers-taste-way-better-than-cheeseburgers. Now let me drink my delicious soda in peace.”

To be fair, Tony only ordered Pepsi because it never failed to offend Happy. _You get your small pleasures in any way you can, am I right?_

Tony was beginning to enjoy this night. It had been too long since the last time he had truly taken a breather. He really should spend some more time with Happy. But then again, Happy was very busy with security, not to mention dealing with Peter, who always seemed to have something to tell Happy. The chauffeur had complained many times about the kid who wouldn’t shut up, but Tony knew Happy had a soft spot for Peter. Hell, _Tony_ had a soft spot for the kid. He was just….so much. Energetic, enthusiastic, happy, overexcited, _everything_. Tony was glad he had found the teenager. Peter reminded Tony of why he was doing this, the Iron Man thing. And sometimes, he really needed the reminder. Like after the Civil War.

_Aw, come on, Tony. No need to get all maudlin._

Tony smiled at Happy, happy (pun intended) to see the man relaxing. He clapped Happy’s shoulder and stood up.

“Hap, I think you should mingle a bit with the lovely people around here. I’m going to the bathroom, so don’t wait for me.” He winked.

The thing with nightclubs was that it was crowded everywhere, toilets included. Tony squeezed himself between a couple busy making out in the corridor and three drunk women sitting on the floor and giggling. He made it to the bathrooms without further incidents, but when he was done, he found the corridor full again. A group of scantily clad women were blocking the way. When Tony cleared his throat, they all turned to look at him. He could see they had had their fair share of drinks: they were swaying slightly, smiling a bit too widely. The one nearest Tony, who wore a red mini-skirt and a top that left little to the imagination, stepped towards him.

“Hey, aren’t you Tony Stark? You know, the billionaire?”

Tony sighed internally. He didn’t really like to deal with drunk fans, and he couldn’t just side-step them either, seeing they were blocking his escape route. So Tony turned on his million-dollar smile and answered.

“You got me, gorgeous. Think you could let me through? My friend is waiting for me.”

No such luck. Now all women were watching him intently, and dare he say, rather hungrily.

Red-skirt took another step closer. She was now well into his personal space, and when he tried to step back, he found himself against the wall. How had that happened?

She leaned against him, grinning, putting a hand on his shoulder for support.

“I’ve always wondered how a night with you would be like. They say you’re a sex god. Want to show me?”

She licked her lips, hand wandering to his chest and downwards, and that was his cue to stop whatever was happening. He grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand from going any lower, and his smile went cold.

“Not that I’m not flattered, because I am, but I’m not really available. You see, I have this lovely fiancée, I think you may have heard of her, Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries, and we’re kind of exclusi-mmmm”

The woman was kissing him!

He tried to turn his head away, but two hands kept him in place, and wasn’t that weird, he could have sworn he still had the woman’s wrist in his grasp, and now his jaw was being forced open, and he felt a pill pushing past his lips.

_Okay, something fishy is happening. And maybe don’t swallow the pill. Something tells me the woman kissing you doesn’t have the best of intentions. No_ shit _, sherlock._

Tony rammed his knee up, right between the woman’s legs. She doubled over, giving him the opportunity to spit out the pill and wrench his head from the grasp of another woman. He took a step to the side, now standing in the middle of the corridor.

A quick glance around confirmed that the women had surrounded him. All four of them had positioned themselves so that he was trapped inside their circle. They were watching him with alert eyes, having lost all signs of being inebriated. He noticed how they all had sneakers, shoes not really fitting for a nightclub, but very good for fighting. Well, it seemed like they were not your typical drunk fans. In fact, they seemed more like professional fighters. They had clearly been waiting for Tony, faking being drunk. Tony and the four women were alone in the corridor, music from the dancefloor pounding in the background. Or was it Tony’s heart?

During a millisecond, they all stood frozen, Tony with his hands raised in fighting stance, the women bending their knees, ready to pounce.

_Come on, remember the fighting lessons Happy gave you, or even better, the sparring matches with Rogers and Romanov._

Four to one weren’t great odds. Tony knew he wouldn’t win in a fair fight against four trained agents/assassins/ninjas – honestly, who _were_ these women?– so he needed to outsmart them.

Suddenly, he slumped, falling to the side. He was falling towards one of the women, and she reacted instinctively, putting her hands up to catch him.

The moment she caught him, he punched her hard in the solar plexus. She hadn’t anticipated the blow and fell instantly, gasping for air. _One down, three to go._

He swivelled around, ready for the next attack, and barely managed to avoid being kicked between the legs by jumping to the side, right into red-skirt. She wasted no time in putting him in a chokehold.

He knew this chokehold.

It was a blood choke.

Once, Romanov had showed him the move. At the time, he had thought she was trying to choke him the normal way, and was just about to wonder why he wasn’t having any trouble breathing, when he promptly passed the fuck out. After she had woken him up, she had explained that she had cut off his blood supply while leaving his airway free. Such a hold, when made correctly, made your opponent pass out in a matter of seconds.

Luckily for Tony, Romanov had _also_ showed him how to get himself out of such a chokehold.

Tony twisted and bent down, grabbed the woman’s legs, and let himself fall backwards while simultaneously lifting her legs. The woman fell with him, letting go of his neck to break her fall. They crashed to the ground, Tony on top of her, and he threw his head backwards, hard. He felt something crunch and knew he had broken her nose. _Two down, two to go._

He dug an elbow in her stomach for good measure and jumped to his feet, just as the two remaining women rammed into him. His head cracked against the wall, making him cry out in pain. The women were pinning him to the wall, punching him in the face and stomach. His head rocked back from a particularly vicious blow to the jaw, and he used the momentum to throw his weight to the side, effectively making the women lose balance. He managed to slip out of their grasp and immediately kicked the nearest assaulter in the face. She dropped to the ground, knocked out. _Three down, one to go._

The last woman threw herself at him with a sneer. She kicked his knee, making his leg give out, and kneed him in the face. He fell to a crumpled heap on the ground, vision momentarily lost.

She crouched over him, aiming a punch at his face, and he rolled to the side, grabbing her ankle and twisting. The woman fell forward in a controlled roll and turned around to face him once more. They were now both crouching, breathing hard and staring at each other.

She got up slowly, taking a step back.

“I must admit I didn’t think you would put up such a fight.”

“Never underestimate me.” He growled back.

A movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. The woman he had punched in the solar plexus had recovered, and kicked him hard in the kidneys, making him stumble forwards, right into the punch to his throat from the other woman. _Fuck. Two to go, I was too hasty._

Gasping for air, he felt the woman grabbing his shoulder. He twisted his arm around her arm, trapping her arm against his armpit. Grabbing her shirt, he yanked up his elbow and broke her elbow. She screamed in pain and he elbowed her in the face while blocking another kick from the other assailant with one of his legs. _NOW there is one to go._

Dropping the woman with the broken elbow, he kicked the shin of the other one. She recoiled, but aimed a side kick at his solar plexus. He dropped to a crouch and swept her leg out from under her. She fell on her back, and before she could get up again, he straddled her hips and put her in a stranglehold. She bucked and clawed at his hands, but he had the weight advantage and was in the position of power. She lost consciousness after a brief scuffle. _Four down._

He rolled off her, clutching his stomach and wheezing.

“BOSS! Where are you!”

Happy was running towards him, shouting and looking panicked. He skidded to a halt when he saw Tony. The billionaire was slowly standing up, panting and still trying to get his breath back. He limped towards Happy, choking out:

“wha-what do you know, sometimes women are literally femmes fatales.”

He fell into Happy’s arms. The former boxer looked at the women in various states of consciousness and suffering and answered:

“Next time you want me to relax, try to avoid getting attacked the second I turn my head. But, uh, nice moves, boss.” 

Tony chuckled weakly and let himself be half-helped, half-dragged out of the night club:

"Yeah, yeah, learned from the best."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fighting techniques I described are a mix of jiu-jitsu, kung-fu and self-defence training.  
> Escaping the chokehold: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqooggN3QCY  
> self-defense against several attackers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zp-EV8Q7VIY  
> Breaking the elbow: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E0Kf8HfvbU 
> 
>  
> 
> Comments are appreciated :)


	3. the king's speech

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This slightly longer chapter will have to make up for the fact that I may not be able to post next week.  
> Exams are a bitch

“Come on Pep, my black eye from the fiasco at the night club isn’t even completely healed! People will think I’ve been in a bar fight or something. And that’s just bad press for SI.”

“There is this wonderful invention called concealer, Tony.”

Pepper sighed. She had been trying to make Tony put on his tuxedo for the past twenty minutes, but he wouldn’t listen. And why should he? He hadn’t healed from his fight and really, what’s one less event? He was sure this one wasn’t so important. He had better stuff to do, like figuring out how to make a repulsor out of nanites.

The problem was that Pepper was even more stubborn than Tony, when she wanted to be. And right now she was getting this look that meant that her patience was running short and he should stop resisting _or else_.

“ _Tony_. You can’t skip this. This is your best chance to get more contracts with electric utility companies. Stark Industries _needs_ those contracts to be able to expand the arc reactor technology, and I can’t go alone because I need to secure the deal with the robotics company we want to buy. I can’t do that and talk to electric companies, and you know that. “

He knew she was right, but he had so wanted to take a night off for once…

It was Tony’s turn to sigh. He pouted a bit and responded:

“Ok, fine, I’ll go. But only because I love you. And because I don’t want to do the next inspection round of SI. Deal?”

He hoped his puppy eyes would help.

Pepper looked at him and smiled in victory.

“Deal. Now hurry up and change. You are expected at the Four Seasons Hotel Downtown in less than an hour.”

“And you?”

She looked back from where she had been walking away, already dressed in a gorgeous Dior gown, and her hair made. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Tony felt as if it was the first time he saw her, and couldn’t stop a lovestruck smile from stretching across his face. He was so lucky to have her.

“I’m going right now. See you soon, sweetheart.”

“Bye, love.”

 

* * *

 

He managed, to his great surprise, to arrive at the event on time. He suspected though that it had been Pepper’s idea to make him take the helicopter instead of being stuck in traffic.

Nevertheless, he was on time, and promptly started making small-talk and cleverly promoting the arc-reactor technology. The event was specifically organised to make new business deals happen. Everybody at the event had some kind of agenda, wether it was to make an acquisition, get a contract or an investment, or investing. For Tony and Pepper, it was all of it. Tony knew he had to be fast to get the good deals, so he wasted no time in charming the right people and getting what he wanted form the smaller companies. He waited a few hours before he began his negotiations with the bigger companies, knowing that the owners and CEO’s would appreciate him taking more time with them and showing his interest by staying late.

_What do you want, this is as much a game of politics as a business event._

Pepper had, of course, been right when she said that he needed to be there. He knew that the public was still wary about the arc reactor technology, and companies were in turn hesitant to invest. He needed to charm everyone with a cunning blend of quips and hard facts.

Tony’s current target was Lynn Good, CEO of Duke Energy, one of the ten largest Electric Utility companies in the US. Lynn Good was trying to convert some of the oil and coal-plants to more eco-friendly facilities, and Tony was hoping to make her use arc reactors. She was a no-nonsense woman, so it would just be a waste of time to make small talk. Tony could appreciate that, it meant getting to the point faster.

“Ms Good, it’s lovely to see you. My compliments on the suit. If you may, let me congratulate you on being elected chairman of the board of Duke Energy. Now, you must know why I’m particularly interested in your company this evening.”

His smile was dazzling. She smiled back, showing her interest in the conversation.

“Good evening, Mr Stark. I believe you want to promote your technology in the hopes I’d use it in my facilities.”

Great. She knew what he wanted, now he just had to convince her. He put on a falsely innocent expression:

“Why, that is exactly what I want. Do you think you could help me out?”

“You’ll excuse my scepticism, I am sure. Your technology is untested and has never been used at a larger scale than one building. The building that, incidentally, attracted a mad god and was the centre of the portal bringing the alien army to Earth. Tell me why I would want to use that technology?”

Oof. She was clearly dubious.

Tony was wondering how he would start his little This-is-good-believe-me-I-know-what-I’m-doing speech, when a man bursting through the doors attracted his attention.

The man was underdressed for the occasion, wearing only a two-piece suit who had clearly seen better days. The man himself looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in quite some time: hair dishevelled, frantic eyes, and a slight shine of sweat on his forehead. He searched through the crowd and locked eyes with Tony. The man walked briskly to where Tony and Lynn Good were standing and shoved her aside. He started ranting right in Tony’s face, spit flying everywhere.

“You fucking thief! Does it make you happy to steal honourable working men’s jobs? Huh? Is it what makes you smile, the knowledge that you ruined someone’s life!”

_Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck does he think I ruined his life? Also, his breath stinks._

Tony put on a cocky smile, hoping to intimidate the man until security was there to drag him away.

“Now now, no need to shout here. I’m sure this was all just a misunderstanding. Mind stepping back? I was having this lovely conversation and you just barged in.” He made a shoo-shoo motion with his hands, but instead of stepping back like a normal person, the man stepped closer. The hand that had been in his pocket lifted, revealing that he was holding a gun, which he of course pointed right at Tony.

_How is this my life? Can’t even go to a fucking event without my life being threatened._

_Okay, reassess. This man must have some kind of speech ready, explaining how I am the source of all evil, that his children are crying because of me, that I eat puppies for breakfast, blah blah blah. Otherwise he would just have shot me already._

_….I think._

There was nothing he could do now. He was too far away from the man to try to disarm him, and he wouldn’t get help from outside, because one wrong movement would mean a bullet in his gut, and not a single person at the event wanted to be held responsible for the untimely passing of Tony Stark. Which was understandable. Tony had only one weapon available, which was his fantastic oratory skills. He intended to use this particular set of skills to the fullest.

“Hey, hey, we don’t need to do this. What’s your name, good man? Seems to me it’s not very polite to point a gun at me if I don’t even know who you are. Know your opponent and so on.”

The man only took two steps back, turning the gun in a wide horizontal circle.

“Don’t come near me! None of you! I’ll shoot him!” He shouted at the guests and guards who quickly stepped back and now stood in a wide circle with Tony as the centre point.

_Guess I’m the main attraction this evening._

Tony had the weird urge to take a bow.

When stink-breath was satisfied nobody would be able to jump him by surprise, he focused back on Tony.

“This is loaded, so don’t you fucking move. Now listen here, you little shit. You asked for this. This is all your fault.”

_Yup, here it comes._

“You took this job away from me, and now my company is going to go bankrupt. All because you wanted to make people use your arc reactor technology. They don’t need your fancy crap, but clearly the Electrical company fell for your lies because they fucking ended my contract! For generations, my family has produced oil, and now you tear our company apart. All you care about is how many million dollars more you make each day. I bet all you do is count your money and sit back and let others do your job. Couldn’t even handle being CEO so you made your girlfriend take your place. As if she could ever do a good job. But I guess it’s better for you to have control than to give the position of CEO to someone who’s _actually qualified_. You’re spitting in every honest worker’s face, teaching us that you don’t need to do anything to get money, but that we must work ourselves to death to even make it through the month. You’re worse than scum! Just because you fucked half of New York, you think you’re some kind of special somebody. Newsflash, that just makes you a slut. Wouldn’t even surprise me if you were trying to get in bed with the lady there.”

He pointed at Lynn Good, who had the decency to show disbelief.

_Wow, he really is going all in._

“You’re using your celebrity status to get things you don’t deserve. Just flash a smile, and ta-da! You’ve got a contract. You think you can fool us with all your talk of safe and eco-friendly electricity? We all know the arc reactor was just some publicity stunt to make the hippies happy. It’s not even safe or doable on big scales. Wasn’t even your technology, your _dad_ made it. Like all other products by SI, it’s not your so-called ‘genius’ that produced it. You’re stealing the ideas of the scientists working for SI and claiming they are yours. You really think that a war-profiteering playboy could come up with amazing stuff like that?”

He scoffed:

“You must really think we’re all stupid, huh? Little Stark boy, thinks he is so much smarter than the rest, so egotistical and self-centered that he actually _believes_ that he’s better than the common mortals.”

He affected a mocking voice, in what was probably supposed to be Tony:

“Ooh, look at me, I’m flying around in a metal suit, I’m a hero now, I even fight two or three bad guys sometimes. I’m such a good guy. I definitely know what I’m doing, and that’s why real heroes like Captain America beat me up and left me to rot. I don’t understand, I thought everybody liked me.”

_Ouch. Low blow, man._

Tony wasn’t really over Civil War yet.

“Well, the charade ends NOW. I’ll show you, _Stark_ , that you are just like everybody else. When you’ll have a bullet in your gut you’ll see that you’ll die as fast as any of us, ‘genius billionaire superhero’ or not.”

Stink-breath seemed to be out of things to say, and instead advanced menacingly on Tony, who retreated to keep an even distance. The crowd moved with them. There were some whispers, and Tony was reasonably sure people were filming, but nobody had made a move to help him. Even the guards were just standing there and watching.

_Typical. I’ll just save myself, then._

_As always_ , a bitter part of his brain supplied.

It was time for Tony to turn the tide around. He raised his hands, showing he wasn’t planning on anything, and started talking.

“Can I just say something? I believe I’m granted my last words before you put said bullet in my gut.”

The man said nothing, and Tony decided to take that as a yes.

“Firstly, as you so graciously explained to our public, your company just lost a contract with NetExtra Energy. That contract was incidentally given to Stark Industries, as the company wants to use arc reactor technology instead of the polluting oil that you provided. Also, they didn’t end your contract. Your contract was already ending, they just didn’t renew it with your company. This is a free country, and NetExtra Energy can do whatever they want. I know it’s easy to put the blame on me, but your bankruptcy isn’t even remotely my fault. This is just business, nothing personal, buddy. It’s the perfect example of capitalism. Don’t tell me you don’t approve of this economic model, you’re in it and using it!”

Tony looked around to make sure that the eyes were on him now. He was determined to make the best of his speech, and not only because it could be his last.

“Secondly, you seem to think that I do nothing with my days. I could give you my working schedule, but something tells me you wouldn’t believe the amount of hours I spend working for SI. So let me tell you something: my money, I _earned_ it. Yes, my father’s company was already thriving, but I turned it to a multi-billion company. And then, after I had my eyes opened in Afghanistan, I shut down the weapons manufacturing division of SI, making us loose enormous amounts of money. That division was our primary source of income. We lost millions, but in the end we got it all back and more, thanks to _my_ innovations. And now Stark Industries is the biggest tech conglomerate in the world, run successfully by the _very competent_ Pepper Potts, who also happens to be my girlfriend. To go back to your problem, you could take a page from my book and repurpose your company. Instead of burning oil to produce electricity, why don’t you make plastic? There are lots of things you could do. Don’t think all is lost just because you lost a contract. I lost more contracts in my life than I can count, but that never stopped me.

Thirdly, _please_ don’t insult my intelligence. You just need to look into all the patents that SI has filed. More than half of those are under my name. I think it’s safe to say that the genius part of me is not exaggerated. Or did you forget I actually built the Iron Man suits?”

Tony took a step closer and was pleased to see that his opponent had stopped moving.

“The arc reactor may have been a publicity stunt, but it’s much more than that now. I successfully miniaturised the technology _while in captivity in a cave, with fucking scraps_. You know, the arc reactor, the blue thingy I had in my chest, to keep me alive? And now you dare say that it isn’t safe? While it was the only fucking thing that kept me from dying? Do you really think I would put something in my chest that was unsafe?”

_Well, apart from the palladium hiccup, everything was safe._

“It even powers my Iron Man suits! And all of Stark Tower. The tower has been off-grid for years without a single mishap. SI has integrated the technology in several of its facilities, with resounding success.”

Tony spread his arms wide, slowly turning around, making eye-contact with all possible investors.

“The arc reactor technology is the future, baby! Cheap, safe and renewable energy. What’s not to like? SI is making the future accessible to every one who wants it.”

That seemed to make stink-breath nervous. Or maybe it was the fact that Tony had been consciously turning away from him, dismissing him and implying he wasn’t a threat. It was all a dance, with Tony’s life on the line.

The man stepped forwards again, raising the gun that had been slowly dropping as Tony made his speech.

“I don’t care about your stupid technology! And you shouldn’t either, or did you forget you’re going to die?”

And that was were Tony could go in for the killing blow.

Tony focused his entire concentration on the man, knowing that it was unnerving to have his razor sharp stare focused on you. He inched forwards, slowly approaching the man, as he spoke.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to shoot me? The moment you pull this trigger, you sign your ticket to life-long imprisonment. You’re going to destroy your own life if you shoot. Kept away from your family, your loved ones, and the company that’s so dear to you. Also, funny that you mentioned I’m a superhero, because I fucking _am_. And my superhero friends won’t like it if I die. Maybe you didn’t know, but heroes tend to hold a grudge if their friends get murdered. War Machine, does that ring any bells? You know, just like Iron Man, but with even _more_ firing power? Well, he’s gonna come after you, I can guarantee that. And if by some miracle there is something left of you by the time he’s finished, SI’s lawyers will be delighted to burn everything that’s even remotely connected to you _to the ground_. Of course, that’s without mentioning Spider-man, Pepper and Happy Hogan.”

Tony was now only a few steps away from stink-breath, who was getting noticeably paler under the threats. Tony stepped even closer and growled:

“I want you to think really hard about what you’re going to do now. You can give me this gun and continue living your life where I’ll never see your face again, or you can shoot, and you’re as good as _dead_.”

Tony turned on his glare at full force, his whole demeanour cold and angry. He knew he was looking like a predator, with his death-glare, contemptuous eyes and raised chin. In this moment, you wouldn’t think he was the one in danger of dying.

The man with the gun wavered, and Tony jumped the last of the distance, disarming him in a swift motion. The gun was now in Tony’s hand, pointing at the man, who was immediately tackled by the guards.

_Hmm. They are more competent than I thought. Points for quick reaction._

The man, openly sobbing, was dragged away as the crowd erupted in cheers. Tony allowed himself a satisfied smile. He had done a good job, if he said so himself. In a few minutes, his speech would become viral, showing the world that he was to be taken seriously, and reminding them just _who_ he was.

Lynn Good stepped up to him, newfound respect in her eyes.

“Mr Stark, it will be my pleasure to use the arc reactor technology from SI in my facilities.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at this video to see someone disarming someone else. From the very funny movie Rush Hour, skip to 2:31: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-bA9FYB8HY
> 
> Also, comments are as always appreciated!  
> See you on 2/6, or earlier!


	4. Too hot, hot damn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 100 kudos and 900 hits!  
> <333333
> 
> my exams are done now, so I'll have more time to write! Yay!

The thing with superheroing, is that you never knew when you would need to swoop in to save the day. Bad guys and catastrophes never waited for a suitable occasion. Villains would wreak havoc in the most ludicrous of places, and with horrible timing. Tony could give countless examples of how he had needed to don the suit in the weirdest circumstances: once, he had been waiting for his coffee when the shop on the other side of the road was sucked into a portal, disappearing in less than a second. And then the portal had spit out a mix between a dragon and a duck, which started quacking extremely loud and eating part of the sidewalk. Needless to say, Tony hadn’t gotten his coffee. Another time, Doctor Doom had thought it was a good idea to attack the California Stark Industries headquarters during a board of director’s meeting. The villain had wrongly assumed that Tony was tinkering in his tower in New York and had promptly retreated when a very pissed off Iron Man started shooting at him. (Tony never was in a good mood during board meetings. Doom had been a shitty addition to a shitty day.) Another time, Tony had been enjoying one of his rare days off in the spa with Pepper before getting snatched up by a somehow liquid monster (it called itself water-man. Very original.) The monster had waved him around and half drowned him by the time the suit had come to the rescue, and Tony had had to put on the suit wearing nothing but speedos. When he managed to subdue the monster, he was chafed all over due to the friction between the suit and his wet skin. The spa had been wrecked and Tony had even been banned from ever entering a spa from the franchise, just because he had destroyed the sauna a tiny bit during the fight with water-man. He had saved their lives, and they thanked him by banning him! Sometimes, people were just so ungrateful.

The point is, Tony couldn’t exactly plan ahead for the next fight or rescue, despite how convenient it would be. Maybe he could convince the next villain to reschedule if it clashed with Tony’s plans. _“No, I’m sorry, I need to get my pedicure at 8:00 tomorrow, but I am free on Friday between 13:00 and 16:00. Would that work for you? I think it’s just enough time for you to destroy a few landmarks and try to rule the world.”_

_Yeah, right._

That meant that Tony could either always be on edge, waiting for the next emergency, or he could assume that nothing would happen. He had opted for the second option, seeing as he would have gone batshit crazy within a week otherwise. The problem was that when something actually did happen, he didn’t always have his suit with him.

Tony had thought about that a lot, and even more after the Civil War. The Avengers were no more, which meant he wouldn’t always have someone to back him up should he not have his suit with him. And a lot of stuff could have been avoided if he had had his suit in Germany when Zemo triggered the Winter Soldier. And, he admitted to himself, he needed to seriously upgrade his suits. If he wanted to be able to deal with the looming alien threat, he couldn’t fight in a suit that some mere super-soldiers had been able to trash so easily.

Tony needed something more durable, that he could have easily accessible at all time. He had been intrigued by the suit T’Challa had been wearing and was positive the king had worn a suit mixing nanotechnology and more traditional materials. Wakanda, he suspected, was far more advanced than they let on. The Black Panther suit was a technological marvel. And its claws could scratch vibranium, which should have been impossible, unless the claws were also made of pure vibranium. Which, in turn, meant that it was entirely possible that Wakanda possessed large amounts of vibranium, and if they knew what to do with it, they could possibly be the most technologically advanced country on Earth. Tony really needed to contact them and see if they would accept joint research projects.

Anyways, the Black Panther suit was proof that nanotechnology was feasible. To be honest, Tony was quite jealous not to have something like that himself. And he couldn’t supress the small twinge of disappointment in himself for not coming up with something similar earlier.

Tony had decided he would make an Iron Man suit made of nanotechnology.

Of course, it wasn’t easy to build such a suit. Tony was still in the trial and error process, and his latest attempt at making a gauntlet had ended with nanites spread across his whole workshop, slithering on the ground and walls like some kind of sentient goo.

It might have gone better if Tony had slept more than thirty minutes the night before. But, semantics and all that.

After his pitiful attempt, Tony had put on Mark 42, feeling weirdly nostalgic, and flown away.

He was currently lazily spiralling upwards around the empire state building.

Flying had always been exhilarating for Tony, feeling the slight tremors around him from the wind, being able to defy gravity. He revelled in the sense of freedom he always got when he flew high over civilisation, like he could do anything he wanted. As the saying went, _the sky is the limit_. For a few precious moments, he could forget his worries, his obligations, and just soar across the sky. Even with countless readings from the HUD, flying calmed his mind. He had had many breakthroughs after flying for a bit, the pause allowing him to take a new approach on his problems. The adrenaline rush and pure joy that he got from flying were helpful too. It could come as a surprise, but it was hard for Tony to shut his mind down. He was always thinking about a thousand different things at once, so flying was the closest to meditation he got. Or maybe it was more like one of the best highs he could get.

Still, Tony was flying around New York, not planning on doing anything besides zigzagging between skyscrapers and occasionally rising high above the skyline only to dive dangerously low. He liked the city, almost as much as he had liked his mansion in Malibu, and seeing its vast expanse underneath him always made him smile.

After an hour, Tony felt ready to fly home again. But before he could turn around, he saw smoke billowing in the corner of his field of view. He changed trajectories and flew towards the column of smoke instead, asking FRIDAY:

“FRI, is that what I think it is? Alert the firefighters if it hasn’t been done already.”

**—There seems to be a fire, boss. Twenty-storey building, fire concentrated on fourth and fifth floors. Emergency personnel is already on site.—**

Tony let out a relieved breath. Firefighters were already there, so that meant the fire had been discovered in its early stages. What remained now was evacuation and putting out the fire. It wasn’t strictly speaking a superhero emergency, but Tony figured he could drop by and offer his assistance, since he was in the suit already.

When he arrived at the scene, the fire had started spreading to the third and sixth floors. The building was maybe a few decades old, but it looked like it had been built off older designs, which meant the fire protection system would be less good.

FRIDAY was rattling off a steady stream of information: structural integrity and weak points of the building, temperature of the fire **—** 800  ̊C  and rising **—** , communications between firefighters, lifeforms in the building.

Tony landed in his trademark three-point crouch and made his way to the nearest police officer.

“Officer, how can I help?”

The man, clearly surprised by his appearance, stared at him for a second before clearing his throat.

“Iron Man, good to have you. You can’t really do anything more than the firefighters to put out the fire, so the best you can do is evacuating the residents.”

“Will do.”

Tony hacked into the communication system the firefighters used and broadcasted a quick message.

“Iron Man here. I’m going to help with evacuation. Tell me where I need to go.”

Several firefighters turned to look at him, but they never stopped their work. He got his answer almost immediately:

“Captain Pompiers here. We need your help in evacuating the higher floors. We can access up to floor 13 easily, so start with floor 14 and up. If we need help elsewhere, I’ll contact you.”

“Roger that. Iron man out.”

Tony flew up to floor 14 and started looking for heat signatures. There were dozens of inhabitants still trapped in the higher floors. Fortunately, the fire wasn’t spreading too fast, not having reached the tenth floor yet. That meant that there was no immediate threat to the residents’ survival.

Tony felt the urge to dive into the flames and help the people who were on the burning floors, but he knew that the firefighters had suits to protect them and were already busy saving the civilians. So he grit his teeth and ignored the voice in the back of his head that was pointing out that _he had better protection, he was faster, he could do it more efficiently!_ Tony just had to trust that the firefighters were doing their job.

The next hour passed in a blur. Tony lost count of how many times he broke in through windows, scanned the floor and flew out again holding scared but awed residents to the safety of the ground. Some of the younger residents even whooped when he flew around the building, holding them securely in his arms. When he was done clearing floors 14 to 20, he allowed himself a small break, hovering a few meters above ground. A crowd had formed at a safe distance around the building, and he saw more than a few snapping pictures of him.

Trust civilians to be more interested in a shiny armour than the building literally on fire.

From the approximately 120 people in the building at the start of the fire, more than a hundred were accounted for outside. Tony had evacuated around half.

Tony looked at the fire, and was surprised when he saw the firefighters hadn’t managed to diminish it. It seemed they were still trying to stop it from expanding. The fire now reached temperatures above 1200 degrees at its core. It had spread to the first and tenth floor, and the HUD gave him concerning stats: the building was beginning to show cracks in the concrete. The temperature was not quite high enough to melt the steel structure, but it was enough to bend it and crack the concrete, meaning the building could actually collapse.

Just as Tony processed that information, captain Pompiers looked up at him and barked:

“Iron Man! We have a woman here saying her husband has been left in their room. She lives on floor 11.”

Tony cursed.

“I’m on it.”

He shot up to floor 11 and barely slowed down as he crashed through a window. The HUD was blaring warnings about elevated temperatures and the rate at which the fire would spread to the floor.

The air was thick with smoke billowing up from the stairwell, CO2 rising to dangerous levels. If he didn’t find this man soon, he would die of asphyxiation.

Tony scanned the floor but was unable to get good readings as the heat from the fire overwhelmed all other readings. He was reduced to walking through the smoke and checking every room manually.

Tony was very glad he had air filtration and night vision in his suit.

He checked a whole apartment without finding anyone. When he stepped out in the hall, he saw that the flames were already licking the top steps of the stairs. In a few minutes, the fire would spread to this floor.  

He shot a blast at the door of the other apartment and strode in. He looked into what was probably a kitchen and the living room before stepping into a bedroom. The smoke was filling the room now, making it nearly impossible to see anything.

Tony thought about the sight he must be: engulfed in almost black smoke, the only visible part of him his eye slits and the arc reactor in his chest.

_If I was a villain, I would look very frightening right now._

But now wasn’t the time to ponder about joining the dark side, even if he most definitely had the looks for that.

He needed to save this man. He just hoped that the reason behind the man not being outside was that he was trapped somewhere, and not worse. He knew that there were a few casualties already, and he hoped he would not have to announce one more.

As Tony turned around to look into the next bedroom, he saw a slight lump in the bed. He immediately pulled the covers off, revealing a lying man. Tony hurriedly scanned him. The man was unconscious and the CO levels in his blood were abnormally high.

**—Boss, he will die within the next minutes if he doesn’t get pure oxygen.—**

Friday stated the obvious. The man had inhaled too much of the smoke and was slowly but seriously asphyxiating and poisoning his blood. Not to talk about the burns in his lungs from the smoke. The man needed…

He needed to be in the Iron Man suit.

“FRIDAY, please tell me we still have those O2 tanks in the suit.”

**—We do, boss. May I tell you that what you’re planning will highly endanger you? Please reconsider.—**

She sounded worried, and she had reason to. Tony tried to soothe her:

“Sorry FRI, but you know just as well as me that this is the only way to save this man. Don’t come for me before he has stabilised. Come on, baby girl, I’ll be fine. Do it.”

The suit came apart around him and reassembled around the unconscious man.

**—Toxicity levels have stopped climbing, boss. I’ll get him to safety. Please don’t die.—**

Sometimes Tony forgot she was only a few years old.

He watched as the suit zoomed away and dropped to his knees.

Rule number one when trapped in a building on fire: crouch or crawl. Smoke rises, so there will be less smoke the closer you get to the ground.

Rule number two: try to protect your airways by covering the nose and mouth with a wet cloth.

Rule number three: get the hell out of dodge.

_Well, I’ve managed to follow rule one. Now, where can I find a wet cloth?_

Tony knew he was on a limited timeframe: the fire would be on the floor any minute now, and if he inhaled too much of the smoke he would die asphyxiated or poisoned anyway.

Tony clutched at the bedsheets and pulled until a pillow fell beside him. He quickly took the pillowcase and pressed it to his face. It would do for the moment, but he needed to get it wet as fast as possible. So he crawled blindly to were he thought the kitchen was. If he remembered correctly, it should be…

There! He recognised the chair he had seen earlier. He stood up, completely blind. The smoke was making his eyes tear and his face burn. He managed to find a faucet, and, _thank god_ , the water system was still functioning. He tore the pillowcase from his face and dragged it under the water, protecting his face with his sleeve instead. After a few seconds, the water abruptly stopped.

 _Plumbing must have exploded on the lower levels. I’m lucky it held out this long_.

Keeping the now soaked cloth on his nose, Tony dropped to a crawl again. He needed to get to a window and signal the firefighters. Tony tried to look for the nearest window, but it was impossible to see more than a decimetre ahead of him.

Tony coughed.

_Shit. I need to get out of here._

As if on cue, an ominous cracking sound shook the whole building. Was it just him or did the floor tilt a little to the left?

Tony lay flat on his stomach, listening intently.

The building was starting to collapse around him, and if he was correct in his assumptions (which he usually was, thank you very much), the collapsing was happening on the side of the building he was in. That meant he needed to be in the other apartment if he ever hoped to survive this.

He crawled as fast as he could over to the front door as the cracks and groans echoed around him.

He blamed the fact that he didn’t realise there were flames in the hall on his blurry vision. The only thing that refrained him from crawling straight into the fire was the sudden wave of heat that had him sweating all over in a millisecond.

_Fuck._

_FUCK. What do I do now? I can’t stay here, but I can’t just crawl through fire either!_

Tony wasted precious seconds on debating the pros and the cons.

Ultimately, the decision was made for him, as the whole building shuddered and ominous cracks appeared right where he was lying. He didn’t think twice: he leapt up and ran through the motherfucking flames as the floor behind him crumbled and fell in deafening noises.

He wasn’t too proud to admit he screamed and cried like a baby during the whole process. Sue him, running through fire was fucking _painful_. He could _feel_ his hear and beard burning, goddammit!

The problem with running and screaming was that he had inhaled a lot of smoke, so the moment he had cleared the wall of flames, he curled into a ball on the ground and proceeded to cough his lungs out. It _burned_ , it hurt so bad. Every breath felt like inhaling fire. During his coughing fit, he managed to roll around to quell the fires that had started on his clothes and hair.

After what seemed like hours but was hopefully less than a minute, he managed to get on his hands and knees and tried to look around.

He just needed to find the window he had come in through.

Easy peasy.

Except it really wasn’t. He hadn’t stopped coughing, and his vision was so blurry from the tears and smoke that he couldn’t distinguish a hand from a foot. But still he crawled on.

He got into what had to be the kitchen. And, surprise, surprise, the cupboards were on fire. How did he know that, you ask? Well, one of them decided it needed to pay a visit to the floor and smashed into it a few centimetres from Tony’s face.

He stared at the burning wreck, utterly stunned. Somewhere in the back of his head, he got the slightly hysterical thought that   _I was almost killed by a goddamn cupboard._

When he managed to get over that slightly terrifying revelation, he continued his crawling until he cut his hand on something sharp. Choking off his gasp of pain, Tony peered down and was almost sure he looked at glass.

Glass!!

_Where is the fucking window, it has to be here, there’s glass everywhere…_

Tony practically sobbed in relief when he felt a faint breeze on his burning hot cheeks.

The window!

He managed to get up, cutting his knees and hands in the process, and grabbed one of the jagged edges of the window. His hands were bleeding from several cuts, but he couldn’t care less. He could finally breathe.

Of course, thick smoke enveloped him, but the smoke was clearing with the winds. And everything was better than the smoke inside.

Tony roughly wiped his eyes with the wet cloth and squinted. He could see the ground, with people looking up and gesticulating. He didn’t know if they had seen him or not, so he waved the arm not holding the cloth and yelled.

“I-I’m here! Help!”

Which was enough to send him into another coughing attack.

By the time he could control his breathing again, he realised that the firefighters had indeed seen him and had deployed a great white sheet beneath him.

_Oh shit, do they expect me to jump?_

“MR STARK! THE BUILDING IS ABOUT TO COLLAPSE ENTIRELY! PLEASE JUMP!”

_Well, that answered the question._

Tony hesitated, not overly enthusiastic at the prospect of jumping 11 floors. But what choice did he have?

 

 

 

He jumped.

 

 

* * *

 

Free-falling was a lot less fun without knowing you had a suit to back you up. Tony had the time to regret a lot of things, mostly not having more than one suit near him, between leaping out from the window and hitting the sheet.

He managed to land on his feet, but he still cracked his ankle.

All in all, he counted it as a win. Hey, he was not dead! Definitely a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some reading for you:
> 
> firefighter hierarchy: https://www.firerescue1.com/cod-company-officer-development/articles/128812018-What-are-the-firefighter-ranks/  
> how hot fires can get: https://skysaver.com/blog/hot-can-fire-get-skysaver-rescue-backpacks/?v=7516fd43adaa  
> what to do when in a fire: https://www.lifehack.org/487224/9-things-to-do-when-in-a-house-fire
> 
> As always, please comment and leave kudos if you liked it.


	5. Highway to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly shorter chapter because I didn't have much inspiration....  
> Also, I realised last chapter's ending was totally unrealistic. I'll let you judge if my explaining in this chapter is enough to convince you. Otherwise: he survived because plot armour.

“No, no, _no,_ just let me talk, you’re wrong. Horribly wrong, and why are you assuming this when you know I’m the paragon of responsibility and—I can hear you judging me over the phone, stop judging me. Come on, sourpatch, the cast was taken off yesterday, I’m more than fit to drive on my own! Be honest, you’re actually impressed and overjoyed that I followed the doctor’s advice.”

Rhodey muttered under his breath, the only intelligible words being _reckless_ and _don’t know why I try_.

Tony had had the cast on his ankle for almost two months, and he had been following the hospital’s instruction to the letter, much to the surprise of just about everyone, including the doctor. Tony had pretended to be offended by the _complete lack of trust_ of his friends, but even he knew better than too push too much. The reason he had decided to heed the doctor’s recommendations was that he knew that a wrongly healed ankle would be a hell of a pain while wearing the suit. Plus, he was getting old, and one day his body wouldn’t recover. Tony preferred that day to come later rather than sooner.

The fact that he had narrowly escaped death during that fire was also a good incentive. When medics had arrived at the scenes, they had stared at him incredulously while he told them what had happened. When they had asked him, then the captain, and then an onlooker if they were _sure_ he had jumped from the eleventh floor, Tony had started getting suspicious. When he had wanted to know why it was so important, one of the paramedics had looked at him and said:

“You should have been dead, Mr. Stark. Nobody survives an 11 storey jump.”

During the hours that followed, Tony had looked it up on the internet. And, lo and behold! The paramedic (Julia) had been right. Except a few miracle cases, people _died_ from a 11 storey jump. Tony had been incredibly lucky, getting off with only a broken ankle and some burns. Statistically, it shouldn’t have been possible. No wonder the paramedics had looked at him as if he was a ghost.

Anyway, realising that he had miraculously survived had made him a bit paranoid. He was, in all honesty, half expecting the other shoe to drop. Maybe there were some internal injuries, and he’d drop dead in the middle of the street. Maybe someone up there realised they had made a mistake and would kill him with a stroke of lightning in his office. (Okay, that wasn’t very probable, but you get the feeling.) Which was why he decided he didn’t need to anger the higher powers that may or may not exist— _I wonder what they would look like. A blob? A rock? Why would some god look like a human? If I was a god, I’d probably change shape everyday just to confuse the people worshipping me. It’d be hilarious to see them try to paint or sculpt a depiction of me.—_ by taking off the cast too early. All in all, he hadn’t regretted his decision. Wearing the cast had allowed him to use it as an excuse to be late for meetings and to complain slightly more than usual. He had bought Pepper some Louboutins though, so he was forgiven.

Pepper may or may not have panicked a bit when she had realised just how close to death Tony had been. And she may or may not have called Rhodey in a frenzy which in turn may or may not have resulted in the current phone call.

Rhodey sighed.

“All right, all right. Just promise me to be careful, Tony. No driving faster than the speed limit. Which car are you driving, anyway?”

Tony was happy to change the subject.

“Oh, you know, the Bugatti Veyron SS. The red and black one. Did you ever drive it? You should drive it. The power of this car… Mmmh.”

“I’ll remember that next time I come see you. Been waiting to take that baby out for a ride.”

Tony chuckled. Rhodey had made it a habit to drive all the cars Tony owned, since that night when Stane had died. Tony didn’t mind, because his friend was far more careful with his cars than Tony would ever be. And if it made Rhodey happy, why should Tony refuse him that? Plus, sometimes paparazzi saw the car and wrongly assumed Tony was in it, which meant more privacy for him. Rhodey took a great amount of pleasure in leading the paparazzi on a wild goose-chase around the state, only to step out of the car in the middle of nowhere just to laugh at the photographer’s faces when they realised he wasn’t Tony. Win-win.

“Drop by whenever you want, honey bear. Mi casa es tu casa, you know how it goes. So, now that you’ve told me how worried you are for poor old me, why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been doing these days?”

“Apart from trying to keep you from getting killed? Well, mostly paperwork. Very tedious. I haven’t flown in War Machine for a few weeks now, but the higher-ups won’t let me take it out for a quick flight. I tried the excuse of the suit needing routine flights but they didn’t buy it. So now I’m just sitting on the couch and watching the news. Let me tell ya, I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Why don’t you watch a series? Have you seen the latest season of Sherlock? It really—”

**BOOOOM**

Tony sucked in a sharp breath.

The road ahead of him had erupted in flames.

At least, that’s what it looked like.

During the next second, Tony realised several things:

  * The road hadn’t actually erupted in flames, but there had been an explosion. Possibly a gas truck or another vehicle transporting something highly volatile.
  * There were debris raining on the road, some looking big enough to cause serious damage.
  * Tony couldn’t brake fast enough to avoid getting in range of the flames because: he was driving too fast; and the car behind him would smash into him if he braked too abruptly. Seeing the car behind him was a Land Rover, Tony speculated there was a 74% chance of him breaking his neck from the whiplash of the crash with the heavier car. Unacceptable odds.
  * Two cars ahead of Tony, a truck had tipped over due to the shockwave, and was blocking the highway. Three cars were arriving at full speed and were going to crash into the truck in approximately 1.5 second.
  * There were at least four more cars that were in danger of colliding with the fallen truck. The road was going to become a massive crash site.
  * Tony was going to crash as well if he didn’t come up with another solution.
  * The downed truck had been transporting diesel and was an unknown amount of time away from exploding as well.
  * That explosion would likely be massive enough to tip over Tony’s car. (67% probability)



Tony saw everything happen in slow motion. The first few cars hit the truck, creating sparks, and Tony knew it was going to explode. Tony had to choose between ramming the brakes and hoping that the Land Rover had started braking too and wouldn’t kill him upon impact; or trying to swerve around the truck and the crashing cars while somehow not dying in the imminent explosion.

Chance of survival: 9%

Not really optimal.

While Tony was watching one of the sparks fly towards the oil on the road, he realised he could use the explosion to his advantage.

Chance of survival: 42%

Better.

Tony pulled the handbrake and turned sharply to the right. It set the car in a drift that left him at a perpendicular angle to the road.

He hit the gas and took off, tires screeching and leaving a trail of smoke after him. He swerved around what looked like a tire. Tony narrowly missed being hit by a Volkswagen and speeded up to the side or the road. If he managed to get off the road before the explosion, he would avoid getting caught in the multiple vehicle collision.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy.

The truck exploded when Tony was a few meters away from the railing. He had the time to think _Oh shit_ before the shockwave lifted his car and sent it into a barrel roll.

Tony had flashbacks of Monaco for a moment, but there were too many differences to make him forget the present. First of all, the car was different. And he had glass all over his left side due to the window breaking with the force from the shockwave. There was also the heat.

And, of course, the fucking railing the car slammed into, making Tony’s world go black.

 

* * *

 

Tony blinked his eyes open and tried to remember what the fuck had just happened. He was currently hanging upside down in the Bugatti, there was something wet in his hair and eyes, he felt weird sharp pinprick pains in his arm and face, and he was staring at a patch of grass illuminated by an orange glow.

Tony waited until his vision wasn’t too blurry anymore and turned his head towards the orange light. It was a fire. On the road. Wh—?

_Oh, yeah._

He remembered.

The fire resulting from the explosions was impressive, to say the least. It seemed like the cars had finally gotten the memo and stopped driving straight into the massive crash area. Tony could count at least twenty cars from where he hanged. He saw what remained of the Land Rover and winced. The car had been ripped apart by the explosion. And was that—?

_Don’t look._

Tony felt sick.

_Update the chance of survival if I had braked: 0%_

Fuck. Tony couldn’t imagine how many were hurt or injured. Or dead.

Well, he was one of them.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and tried to catch himself with his hands. It didn’t go so well. He collapsed in a heap, groaned a bit, then flopped on his belly. The roof of the car was littered with glass and other objects (a pen, his jacket, his favourite pair of glasses, grass?), but Tony didn’t care. He needed to get out of the car. He crawled out through the windbreaker, which had helpfully been shattered by the railing. When the world stopped spinning, he slowly sat up and surveyed his surroundings. From the looks of it (and the car parts strewn around), his car had slammed into the railing, tipped over it and skidded down the slope before stopping. He was around thirty meters from the highway, at a safe distance from any last-minute crashes.

_What do I do now?_

He had half a mind to go back to the car, what for he had no idea, but he turned around just in time to see the Bugatti ignite.

_Ah, yes. Cars can do that in a crash._

Tony looked around him on the ground, trying to find his phone. He needed to call someone. 911, preferably. And he needed to know how long he had been out. And to get the fucking glass out of his face.

He found his phone a few meters from the car. The phone wasn’t even damaged.

_Starktech for you. Wish I had the same durability._

Tony picked up the phone, and winced when he saw the screen:

15 MISSED CALLS

3 MESSAGES

All from Rhodey. Fuuuuck. He had completely forgotten he had been talking to his platypus.

Rhodey couldn’t know about this. He would freak out and never let Tony do anything again.

His phone started buzzing. Rhodey was calling again.

_Okay. Just breathe in, breathe out, get your shit together. Good. Now answer his call, say something mildly annoying to Rhodey so that he doesn’t lose his shit and does something drastic like come over and force you into bed. You can do it._

He answered the call.

“Tony? Tony? What’s happening? I heard a loud noise from your phone, then the call cut, and now the news is showing this enormous explosion on the highway and I’ve been trying to reach you for the last ten minutes, what’s happening he—”

Tony didn’t let him finish his train of thought.

“No, no, don’t worry, everything is fine, I just lost the phone for a moment, a, uh, truck honked loud as fuck. Must be what you heard. And I couldn’t really find the phone so that’s why I—I didn’t answer. So uh, if it’s fine, I’ll just, hang up, and we can maybe talk later?”

Tony was met with suspicious silence. Shit, he hadn’t been very convincing, had he?

“Tony, why do I get the feeling that there’s something you aren’t telling me? And hang on a second, _is that your_ _fucking car that’s completely wrecked aND BURNING LIVE ON CNN?!!!”_

Whoops. _Busted_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed, I posted next chapter too. Be sure to read it!
> 
> Some links:  
> [What Tony's car looks like](https://www.google.se/search?q=bugatti+veyron+ss+red&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiG5cb01vfiAhXok4sKHUAjBIkQ_AUIECgB&biw=1280&bih=603&dpr=1.5#imgdii=NnwtiOVz5d0aWM:&imgrc=lME62_l4XrQI1M:)
> 
>  
> 
> [Video of a drifting Bugatti](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZdpUcWKjdU)
> 
>  
> 
> [Wikipedia article about multiple vehicle collisions. There is a list with examples, some crashes involved more than 200 cars!!!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multiple-vehicle_collision) 
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please comment :)


	6. Stranger in the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter of this fic! Be sure you didn't miss chapter 5, I posted them both at the same time.  
> Also, a warning: Tony's rambling thoughts take a weird turn in this chapter.

Tony hated galas. And he hated hosting galas even more. Don’t get him wrong, he was simply _the best_ at hosting galas, especially the September Foundation ones, but they always left him drained. He hated the fact that he couldn’t do anything without at least ten people watching him avidly. He hated having to smile and be polite to guests who thought they had some kind of authority over him, or _worse_ , who thought he owed them something. He had turned down countless innovation ideas by stock investors who thought they were special.

Sometimes, the oily smiles and dishonest compliments were too much for him to take. Nobody ever approached him with the only intention to talk. Maybe he was too intimidating or something. Or it could have to do with the fact that he was a billionaire genius. Well. Not much he could do to change that, right?

 

Tony bit back a sigh as he pretended to listen to another middle-aged magnate who was currently listing all the factories he owned in a futile attempt to impress him. He needed some fresh air, like, yesterday. Tony was just about to start counting the grey hairs on the man’s head when he heard Pepper call his name. _Thank_ _god_. He excused himself with a smile and sauntered across the room to where she was waiting for him, two glasses of champagne in her hands. She leaned close to him and whispered: “I saw you getting your _I’m-so-bored-I’m-going-to-cause-an-international-incident-in-the-next-twenty-seconds_ look, so I thought you could take a walk in the gardens and come back when you’re not about to blow something up.”

 

He quipped back: “I’m deeply hurt, how could you think such a thing, you know I never blow something up before midnight!” (Which was a total lie, by the way, but that wasn’t the point). He took one of the glasses and downed it in one go. Then he smiled gratefully at her and added: ”Thanks, honey. See you in five.”

 

That was FRIDAY’s cue to call him, so that he could use the pretence of having to take a phone call to step outside. Boy, was he happy to have come up with this particular secret code. It had saved his life in many occasions (Okay, maybe not exactly saved his life, but you could still die of boredom in a board meeting, right?)

 

As soon as he was out of view of the gala, he fast-tracked to the furthest point in the gardens. The night was a bit chilly, but he greatly preferred the company of the trees over all the snobs in the gala. _Not you, Pepper, I love you, trees can’t compare, and I’m not saying I don’t like trees because I do, but if had to choose between kissing a tree_ _and spending the evening with you I would…probably do both. But wait, is it even legal to kiss a tree? How do I know they want to be kissed? I wonder if there are any tree rights activists. Maybe I could start a group. Invite the lovely oak over there and talk about consent. Wait, what?_

 

And that’s why he shouldn’t be left alone for too long. Where even was he?

 

It seemed like he had wandered to a part of the gardens that was not lit. Not that he was afraid of the dark, but well… He rather preferred not stumbling over his own feet and face-planting to the ground. That wouldn’t be very sexy, and never let it be said that Tony Stark was not sexy. Besides, the trees might be watching. Now that he thought about it, trees were literally forced to watch everything. Looks like his discussion on consent was going to be a lot longer than expected…

 

“Sorry, oak, but you’ll have to understand we won’t be doing much more than gazing into each other’s eyes before I know that you actually want this,” he mumbled.

And _why_ was he talking to an oak? He couldn’t be drunk just from drinking one glass of champagne, could he?  Looking around, he noticed a hole in the fence. _Huh, guess I should send someone to repair it_.

 

Tony walked aimlessly around for the next few minutes, not really knowing what he was doing. Would it be too early to leave the gala? Ugh... had he mentioned how much he hated galas? In case he hadn’t: he _despised_ galas. Hated them with a passion.

 

_Come on, Tony, you’re sounding like a broken record here._ _Just go back there, put up your best fake smile and try not to throw up when an old hag tries to charm you, or worse,_ flirt _with you_.

 

He begrudgingly headed for the building again and was just about to reach a section with lighting when he felt more than heard something move behind him. The next moment, strong arms circled his torso and yanked him into a bush. Before he could utter the slightest sound, he was face down on the ground, a knee digging painfully in the small of his back and two hands twisting his arms to force his hands between his shoulder blades. He groaned.  _Oh great. This has to be a new record. ”Hey, what did you do this weekend? Well, I was attacked not 20 meters from the building where I organised a gala. You? “_

 

He was cut off from his thoughts by a gruff voice: “Looks like we hit the jackpot guys, this one reeks of money. I bet his clothes are worth more than a car.”

 

Tony could see two pair of feet and the grunts of acknowledgment told him there were most probably three attackers. Probably not a kidnapping then. No crazy villain of the week either, if the lack of maniacal speech was anything to go by. Just some petty thieves then. Tony didn’t know if he should be relieved or insulted that some common thugs had gotten the better of him. He was about to start complaining about his suit getting dirty when he realised that the goons hadn’t mentioned him by name. And usually, villains never passed an opportunity to mention his name as a way of rubbing in his face that they had managed to overpower the great Tony Stark.

 

So, that was new. There could be several reasons as to why they didn’t mention his name: they wanted to seem more ignorant than they really were (but who was so ignorant that they didn’t know Tony Stark? …Wow, that sounded really narcissistic, didn’t it? Moving on.); it was some kind of tactic to make him feel ignored and make him talk to be acknowledged (and honestly? That might just work); they were from a secret sect where you were forbidden to mention people’s names (not very likely); or they just hadn’t recognised him in the dark. And now that he was thinking about it, it really _was_ dark. So the last option was the most probable. _Probability: 87%_ , his brain informed him.

 

He decided that it was high time he said something when he felt hands starting to pat him down.  _Looks like it’s not only the trees that need some talk about consent._

 

“Not that I don’t love lying in the dirt, but would you mind letting me stand? I don’t think you need to have me on the ground for this.”

 

The surprised intake of breath above him reinforced the theory that they didn’t know who he was, because _everybody_ knew that he would never pass an opportunity to say something, for better and for worse. Actually, him mouthing off while at the mercy of villains had never been a good idea, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

 

Gruff voice started talking: ”You’ve got a mouth on you! Making demands when you can’t even move a finger. But I guess it’ll make it easier for us to search you.” The man holding him down leaned over him and whispered: ”Try anything and you’ll regret it.” After that not-so-reassuring sentence, he was hoisted on his feet, both arms in an unwavering hold.

 

A bit disoriented, he rolled his shoulders and checked the surroundings. There were indeed only three men, all of them tall and buff. Two were holding his arms and the third started checking his pockets. No weapons in sight, but he could feel something hard pressed against his ribs. Must be a knife. Shit, that complicated things. He would have to comply. For now, at least. _Just play along, swallow your pride, and let them take whatever they want. Now is not the time to see if all the moves Cap taught you actually work. Or if your ankle really is healed._

 

Tony, never knowing when to shut up, drawled: ”Thanks, dear. This is much better. Do you know how much it costs to dry clean this suit? Let me tell you, it’s more hassle than it’s worth.”

 

The man in front of him chuckled, making a low, raspy sound. Well, must be Gruff voice. He seemed like the leader of the group. And apparently, he was the one doing all the talking, as he answered: “You’ve got guts, gotta give you that. You’re the first one who didn’t break down and promise us a fortune to let you go. Would’ve expected you to start sniffling the second you were caught.”

 

At that, Tony gave a startled laugh. What other reaction could there be to someone expecting him to cower and cry? 

 

Apparently Gruff voice hadn’t gotten the memo that this was hilarious, because he loomed over Tony and growled: “What’s so funny? Are you trying to be brave? What’s next, gonna tell us that you’d never cry, that we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that you’re a superhero in disguise? Cut the act.”

 

And that was enough to send Tony into a laughing fit. The utterly flabbergasted look of the man in front of him only made him laugh harder. Oh, the _fucking irony_ of this! He hoped FRIDAY was recording this through his phone. About that, why hadn’t she called the police yet? He really needed to upgrade her security protocols. But that wouldn’t do him any good now.

 

Before Gruff voice could decide to punch him in the face for laughing, a moon ray broke through the clouds, illuminating the men. Tony had the time to note the fact that one of the ears of Gruff voice was bigger than the other (3% longer to be exact) before said man seemed to come to a realisation. His eyes widened dramatically, and his expression morphed from confused to disbelieving and... _scared_?

 

_Looks like the cat’s out of the bag. What will you do, now that you know exactly_ who _you have restrained?_

 

Tony stopped laughing, letting an easy smile rest on his face, showing nothing of his racing thoughts. Things were getting serious. You could never guess what would happen in a situation like this. Would the man panic and kill him?  Would he try to kidnap Tony? Would he run away? _Please, just run away. That would make everything easier._

 

But nothing was ever easy, was it? _Okay, just play it cool, if you look calm maybe he won’t freak out._

“What, got something on my face?” he asked.

 

The man just stared. And stared. And stared some more. And then, _finally_ , he opened his mouth, whispering: “T-Tony Stark?”

 

“The one and only, baby.”

 

He could feel the increase of tension all around him. The men grabbing his arms had gone very still, holding their breath. Gruff voice’s face was ashen. The man sucked in a breath and started cursing. Profusely.

 

“Motherfucking shit, I can’t believe it. Fuck, shit, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck what do I do now? I can’t… Oh my god, I attacked Iron Man, I’m gonna die, what’s Lily gonna say? Fucking hell. I should just… This is not how I wanted to meet Tony Stark. FUCK!”

 

Gruff voice ( _Should I start calling him Panicked voice? Cause he sure sounds panicky right now)_ stopped his rambling to glare at his minions: “What are you waiting for? Release him, for god’s sake!”

 

They did. And that’s where it all got pretty weird.

 

He found himself facing three very agitated men. They couldn’t seem to muster the courage to look at him, let alone speak. Were they expecting him to kill them with his bare hands or something? To be honest, he actually kind of could. But they had the advantage of carrying weapons. Hell, a few seconds ago they had him completely at their mercy! But now, they were trembling, actually _trembling_ , and was one of them crying? What the fuck.

 

Not one to question his lucky star, though, he took action: “Well, looks like this is some sort of misunderstanding. Let’s just forget this ever happened. I’ll go back to the gala, and you… can do whatever you three were doing in the dark.”

_Whoops. That sounded more kinky than I’d intended._

“How does that sound?”

 

Panicked voice finally met his eyes and stuttered: “Mr-Mr Stark, I’m so sorry, please don’t kill us, we would never have done this if we knew it was you, could you give me an autograph?”

By the way his eyes widened, the man had not intended to say that last part out loud. He quickly put up his hands in a placating manner and continued his rambling: “Uh, it’s just that my little girl, Lily, she’s a big fan and she wants to be an engineer just like you and she loves Iron Man and she thinks you’re the best hero and it’s her birthday next week and it would really make her day to get an autograph of her idol and oh my god I should shut up I’m just pissing you off and now you’ll repulsor blast me to hell and—“

 

“I don’t see a reason why she shouldn’t get an autograph. Let me just grab a pen, yeah?” Tony interrupted. The poor man seemed relieved not to be disintegrated on the spot and let out a trembling breath. His minions helped him sit down and they all watched Tony as he fished a pen and a piece of paper out of his chest pocket. What, just because he was the most technologically advanced man on the planet didn’t mean he didn’t always carry an emergency autograph kit with him! Tony signed the paper with a flourish and put it in Panicked voice’s hand.

 

“Now scram.”

 

He didn’t need to tell them twice. They scrambled to their feet and fled as fast as they could.

 

Tony looked around, brushed the dirt off his suit, and took a deep breath. _Did they just let me go unharmed because I am Tony Stark? Usually, people hit me twice as hard when they figure out who I am. Can’t say it wasn’t a pleasant surprise, though._

_I guess there is a first time for everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it for this fic! A thousand thanks to all of you who left kudos and commented on my first real fic on AO3.
> 
> I'm going to do some self-promoting:  
> If you want some angsty Tony fics:
> 
> [kidnapping AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782167/chapters/44561026)
> 
> [Post-Endgame pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18767446/chapters/44522089)
> 
> More lighthearted fic:   
> [2012!Avengers AU](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018609/chapters/45166318)
> 
>  
> 
> find me on [Tumblr](https://oluka.tumblr.com/)  
> please leave comments and tell me what you think <3


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